


I Wouldn't Mind

by SparkyLulu



Series: Songs About a Wolf [1]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: AU!Demons, Alternate Univers - No band, Alternate Universe - Demons, F/M, Hints of Non-con, Mentions of past trauma (not descriptive), Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Rating is for explicit sexual relationship with ADULT self-insert, Story starts with a very young self-insert until she's adult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkyLulu/pseuds/SparkyLulu
Summary: "I was only three years old when my life changed forever and I arrived at the Church. I barely remember anything but the softness, the warmth, the comfort, of the blackest wings any Angel would have sported; and the pure silkiness of a voice, so calm, so soothing."Three chapters, each vaguely inspired by a song, following the story of you as a young Sister of Sin hiding a rapidly increasing love for the head of the Satanic Church -- Papa Emeritus III.





	1. I Wouldn't Mind (He Is We)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First song: ["I Wouldn't Mind" by He Is We](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSjDXxN09A8).

Some people have a photographic memory. Others have sound or tactile memory. Most people's memory is selective while a few others can't let go of them no matter how hard they try. Some people say that memories, like stories, can be crafted and are but figments of what we thought that happened back there and then while the truth slips away like the most delicate silk eludes the skin's grasp.

I was only three years old when my life changed forever and I arrived at the Church. I barely remember anything but the softness, the warmth, the comfort, of the blackest wings any Angel would have sported; and the pure silkiness of a voice, so calm, so soothing.

At first, I thought it had all been a dream -- you know how vivid a child's imagination can be and, of course, it would've only been natural given I had just come out of a traumatic experience. Later, however, I learned that hadn't been the case for the accident had indeed happened, I had indeed been rescued by a black-winged figure, and that I had been given a second chance at life by the One Below.

This was the story I was told and the one I chose to believe in. I had no home, no family, nothing -- except for that which I had found at the Ministry's Church where ghosts and demons were real and Satan's Word was preached by one of Their Sons. Being so young and having been taught to think for myself even at that early age, I had heard a story or two about the Old One but hadn't matured an opinion about Them; in a similar fashion, I didn't stand an opinion about God either, aside for the fact He hadn't been very kind to me thus far.

My second memory is a fragment of the time I asked the Sister of Sin in charge of me about my past. I had only been at the Church for some months and I couldn't shake off the nagging homesickness... Or let go of the comfort brought up by the thoughts about the Angel that had saved me. Either the Sister hadn't known much or, on the contrary, had been told to keep quiet, because she never answered my questions. Instead, she would tell me that the Dark Lord would illuminate my path and bring me answers when the time would come. Even if I accepted her words, nothing could've held me back from trying to sneak around and find other, _better_ answers on my own.

I had sneaked away from the room I shared with two other children under the veil of night with the intention of exploring the church -- there was only so much a young girl could explore during the day without a Sister scolding her or getting into trouble (apparently, not even the One Below approved of such behavior at that small age). As anyone but me could've guessed, I got lost. Suddenly, the church didn't look as interesting and not even the Morningstar shone bright enough inside it. Helpless, I crawled under a huge desk, seeking the safety of the tight space and wishing the Angel would come to my rescue again. That's when I heard _his_ voice once more.

"What are you doing hiding there at these hours, _bambina?"_

My eyes widened -- not in fear _(never_ in fear) but in disbelief. The Uncreator had heard my prayer and had sent me their Angel to save me.

A dim light illuminated the areas surrounding the desk but was soon blocked by a large dark figure. What I assumed (and later confirmed) was his face, looked nothing like any face I had seen before. Framed in black, it was shaped like a very badly-drawn heart (later, I understood it was a stylized skull) and looked at me with one bright white eye. I didn't know much about angels but I guessed that the ones from below had to look different from the ones above.

The white face smiled at me and a black hand with golden nails searched within the black mass that I assumed was the angel's body and took out a lollipop and handed it out to me. "Say, wanna come out?" I took it in my tiny hands and looked back at him, puzzled. I remembered mom had told me that I shouldn't take sweets from strangers but this was the Angel so I thought she wouldn't oppose.

 _Mom..._ Thinking about her hurt. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes and I lounged straight into the angel's arms -- clad in the black, gold, and royal purple of his chasuble "wings". He was taken aback but held me tight as soon as he realized I was crying. I don't know for how long he held me but he stayed with me until the storm had cleared from my eyes.

"There you go, it's not so bad now, is it?" He smiled at me when only a sniffle remained from my outburst. "Wanna tell Papa what's bothering you, _bambina?"_

At the time, I didn't understand what he had meant for I hadn't started my education and had yet to attend mass. For all I knew, the angel wasn't my father but I felt alone and homesick and would rather play along than correct him.

"I'm alone and scared, Papa..." I remember my voice being but a crack, product of the tiredness, the crying, the fear, the sheer need for something that I wouldn't find with the Sister that took care of me.

I don't remember his exact words but I remember he talked to me and listened to my story. I also remember telling him that I wanted to know what had happened and that was when he told me that he had been sent there because a new novice would appear, that there had been an accident, that he had retrieved me upon seeing what had happened. When I asked him if he was my guardian angel, he chuckled and told me that he could be if I so desired.

He made sure to get me back to my chambers so I could rest. I woke up the next day and found a note beneath my pillow -- a fine black stationery folded in two that, upon opening, revealed a gilded drawing of an angel with black wings and skull paint holding a small girl between his arms, shielding her from any unknown terror that could be hiding in the darkness of the page. That drawing is still one of my most precious memories and a constant reminder of the reality of all this.

As I grew up, I became fonder of Papa and I learned that he had somehow developed a soft spot for me too. There weren't many little children residing at the Church at the time and I think that him being the one to rescue me had some sort of impact on our relationship, bringing us closer.

Mass was always a curious experience. Sinning was encouraged, of course, but I soon learned that, above all, what was encouraged the most was _freedom._ Papa would make sure that everyone understood that the Church of Satan was open to everyone and that everyone had been touched by the Morningstar's light, therefore, was deemed a rightful faithful in their own ways. I didn't understand much at first but, in time, I learned that kindness could find its place there as well as wrath; and that even lust could carry love within.

At the age of fifteen, I started my training to become a Sister. Lessons until then had been what I suppose was the usual school program. From that point onwards, they would focus on church duties, rituals, demonology, clerical etiquette, Latin (with other optional languages), among others. Latin was one of my best subjects, along with the optional Italian course I had taken. Rituals had a tendency to be my worst for I would always miss a step or place the elements in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, I tried my best; if nothing else, then because it meant that I could spend more time with Papa. Somehow, in spite of my clumsiness, he always found the time to help me understand and learn the ways of the rituals and I, above all, learned to treasure each one of those moments. I looked up to him and I wanted him to notice me.

The novice training also meant I spent more time with other Sisters and not only the couple of kids I had grown up with that were more or less my age. I became friends with an older sister named Miriam who tutored me with ritual training and is the most patient person I've ever met; and, later, I befriended Carmen, a novice my age who had transferred from another church facility led by Papa Emeritus the Second -- Papa's older brother. I enjoyed spending time with both of them and listening to their stories, especially Carmen's since she had come from a place I'd never been to. Apparently, the Second was much more strict and sinning was far more encouraged there, even if the Ministry's guidelines were the same for each Church. That's how and when things began to get complicated.

Carmen was telling me about the ghoul she had been eying recently and her... _Plans_ to get closer to him. I don't know if it was my shyness at the topic or my obvious lack of practical knowledge, but she decided to ask me about my experiences. I had barely turned sixteen and, unlike Carmen, I had opted for a quieter, _less sinful_ celebration. Don't misunderstand me, I didn't judge her at all; I just wasn't ready to experience any of that -- especially when I hadn't even kissed anyone and couldn't think of anybody to try any of that with.

I tried to explain that to her but she seemed skeptic about my answers. She seemed convinced there had to be someone I had laid my eyes on, be it man, woman, or ghoul.

"How about Papa?"

I looked at her and quickly shook my head, feeling my face becoming redder by the minute. Sure, Papa was attractive but he was also, well, _Papa._ He was my savior, my guardian angel. I was sure he regarded me as one of his children -- figuratively speaking -- and could never, _would never..._ Besides, he was the head of the Church and probably had a lot of women...

"Watch out, girl, you'll turn into a fire ghoul if you keep getting redder."

I looked back at her, realizing I was furtherly digging my grave with each passing second. She laughed and I wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the earth and be taken straight down to Hell.

"You like him."

"I don't!"

"Your face says otherwise!" She laughed again, enjoying the teasing.

She knew my back story, therefore she was convinced that my obviously platonic feelings were born out of the lack of real experience. She assured me that my crush would go away as soon as I found someone else to get _real_ with.

The thing is, two more years have passed, I've turned eighteen, no progress has been made in the "real experience" field, and my feelings have only gotten stronger. Not only that but I am now laying on my bed, crying out of heartache while clutching the old drawing he gave me, after a month of barely seeing him at mass. Something has changed between us and I don't know what it is. He has been avoiding me -- where once he would take any chance to spend some time with me and talk about school or look at my drawings, now he tries hard not to be left alone with me. At this point, I just want him _back,_ even if it means to conceal my feelings.

All I know is that I have fallen for him as surely and as hard as Lucifer fell down from the Heavens. Yet, I am but Icarus, reaching for a Son who will always be out of my reach.


	2. Never let me go (Florence + The Machine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Hint of non-con that ends well for the reader (aka, she stands her ground).**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second song: ["Never Let Me Go" by Florence + The Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMBTvuUlm98).

I stood in front of Jasper's bedroom's door, my right hand frozen a mere two inches before knocking. I had agreed to meet him there that night for some -- as he so had suggested --  _ 'quality time together'. _ I was sure that even the most innocent of God's devotees would've understood what was going on and I just couldn't comprehend what had gotten into me when I had agreed to this.

Surely Carmen had a lot to do with it or, more precisely, the fact that I envied her had brought me to that place. I was so tired of feeling so heartbroken for my one-sided feelings over an overly platonic relationship and for making it all such a big deal; I just wanted to be like her -- so  _ carefree. _ Thing is, I had never and would never be like that. Again, I didn't judge her in the least; I just couldn't lie to myself and pretend to be someone I was not. It wasn't fair for Jasper but, above all, it wasn't fair to me; and, if I had learned something in my stay at the Church, it was that I had to be true to who I really was -- demons included.

I turned away. I figured I would apologize to Jasper some other time.

 

*

 

_ "Why?" _

Jasper and I were in the middle of one of the Church’s countless hallways. I could tell he was angry at me, even if both of us were trying to keep our emotions at bay. I didn't blame him, I should've told him I had changed my mind instead of waiting until confrontation had been unavoidable.

"I don't know", I shrugged. "I realized that it would've been a mistake. The kiss was a mistake, this would've been worse." We had kissed a couple of days prior -- nothing really serious, just something that happened. It had been tasteless. His rough lips had meant nothing to me when he had placed them on mine. Yet, I had toyed with the idea of what could have happened had I the slightest interest in the Brother that currently stood in front of me.

"You should've said something."

"I know and I'm sorry I didn't."

Things got silent between us. I turned, ready to walk away when he spoke again.

"You  _ owe _ me."

I halted. "Excuse me,  _ what?" _

"You heard me. You owe me. You agreed to it."

"I don't  _ owe _ you anything, Jasper, I am not an object." My voice was still somewhat collected but I scowled at him. I turned around again, no further explanations needed. 

"It's because of Papa, right?"

I should add stopping on my tracks and turning to face him to my list of mistakes concerning Jasper. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that disgusting smug grin he wore, so sure of getting away with what he wanted. There was a certain slur in his hushed tone that made him sound like a serpent ready to strike at its prey's throat to asphyxiate them.

"Maybe you changed your mind because you wanted  _ him… _ Oh, you know, to be a good girl and let him spoil you in any way possible…"

I didn't think it twice. I closed the short distance between us and slapped him as hard as I could, the sound of my hand against his cheek resonating throughout the hallway. My hand stung and burned just like my face. I was furious -- at him for stating what could only be truths, at me for being so obvious and so stupid to have trusted him. With tears prickling in my eyes, I turned around one final time ready to leave, only to find the person I wanted to see the least had witnessed our whole exchange.

My face drained of all color. Tears streamed down freely as I ran away from Jasper… and past Papa.

 

*

A knock on my bedroom door alerted me, awakening me from the sad trance I had fallen in. Outside, somehow, the world was still going; but I wasn't ready for any of it. I hoped that, if I ignored the knock, whoever was on the other side would get the message and go away too. Clearly, I had learned nothing.

_ "Bambina... _ May I come in?"

For the second time that day, the world stopped. The one I had been avoiding all day, the demon who had me wrapped around his claws, was standing on the other side. There were many-a-reason why he could be doing such a thing, anger and worry being just two of them -- both equally dreadful.

_ "Bambina... Per favore?" _

The concern in his voice stung like a thousand knives and tore my heart in a way that no kind of raw anger could.

I nodded into my pillow, tears falling again. It made no sense for Papa could've never seen this faintest of gestures standing on the other side. Yet, he came in, with the cautiousness of someone who knew he had been invited in but was still wary of not intruding the personal space of the other.

_ "Bambina, _ what happened?"

There it was again. The worry, the concern… the  _ hurt? _ I couldn't have answered him even if I had tried. It was all too recent, too painful to even attempt to put it into words.

Tentatively, Papa took a step closer. Seeing I didn't reject him, he approached my curled form, sitting at the edge of the bed like he had done countless nights throughout my childhood. 

"I can assure you that Brother of Sin will be troubling you no longer, not after the,  _ ah,  _ word I had with him."

I nodded. It was a relief, even if the whole affair with Jasper seemed miles away from me.

"I am sorry,  _ bambina." _

That made me look at him. His expression was serious but it wasn't directed at me -- he appeared to be angry at himself for a reason I failed to comprehend. He looked back at me, his frown softening.

"I should've gotten away from you sooner."

My stomach dropped and my heart broke.

“Why…” I whispered.

_ “Scusami?” _

My voice cracked and my vision blurred as the tears fell.  _ “Why, P-Papa? _ Why g-get away?”

He looked puzzled. I was heartbroken and anger was starting to boil inside of me -- did he truly not understand what I was asking him or was he feigning innocence,  _ mocking me? _

His shoulders dropped and so did the chasuble’s sleeves --  _ his wings. _ His gloved hands remained on his lap as he spoke softly, choosing his words with extreme care. “I have known for some time now that you harbored feelings of a romantic nature towards me.” -- I swallowed down a sob. -- “I’ve known you since you were a child,  _ bambina,  _ I know that any emotion you feel is thoroughly felt and I-” -- he quickly corrected himself --  _ “you _ wouldn’t have been able to let it go otherwise.”

I couldn’t hold back the sob this time but it was muffled by my covers. “B-but why get away?”

He sighed, utterly defeated. “I didn’t want to feed those feelings any longer…”

I searched his gaze with my reddened eyes. There was something he was hiding and I dared to  _ hope. _ “Did they…” -- I took a deep breath -- “did they affect you too?”

He stiffened. It was subtle enough but I caught it. I had learned to catch these small signs throughout my life because they had been, more often than not, the only way for me to see the  _ real _ Papa -- and not just the Church’s Leader. Still, I struggled not to let my hopes up for I knew the fall would hurt too much.

“Yes.” -- I held my breath as I waited for him to continue. I almost didn’t catch the words he muttered next. -- “I didn’t want to taint you further…”

I blinked the remaining tears away, I needed to see him clearly. “What do you mean, Papa?”

A small smile curled his lips but didn’t reach his eyes. He stretched himself to reach my bedside table, his embroidered chasuble caressing my exposed forearm with a feathered touch. I followed his movements trying to see what was he doing. Almost immediately I realized he had something in his hands -- an old and worn piece of black stationery. I watched him examine the drawing like it was the first time he had seen it in ages -- which, come to think about it, was probably true.

“It never ceases to amaze me knowing that you have treasured this little keepsake for all these years,  _ bambina. _ Had I known it would stay that close to you I would’ve made a greater effort.” This time, the smile reached his eyes, even if for just a few seconds. He sighed, contemplating the drawing one last time. “I  _ had to _ push you away for both of our sakes,  _ cara. _ The changes in your demeanor were affecting me too and I…” -- he struggled to find the appropriate words -- “You have already lost your family once, I cannot deprive you of it again.”

I furrowed my brows in confusion. “I don’t understand, Papa, what does my family have to do with this?”

“What I am trying to say is that when I found you all those years ago -- Satan almighty, how time flies by --, you named me your Guardian Angel.” -- His eyes looked at me softly but I could see a hint of something else, something  _ mischievous _ that glistened deep inside them. -- “Guardian Angels don’t look with bedroom eyes at their protegees, do they now?”

My eyes widened and my lips parted slightly in surprise. I searched him looking for anything, any sign I could’ve missed and that could tell me I was misunderstanding his words. I found nothing.

“Papa…”

“I am sorry. I shall torture you no longer and let you heal,  _ cara mia.” _ He got up, ready to leave, and I could feel the coldness rapidly creeping through the spot he had just vacated.

The door creaked as it was opened and a dim ray of light crept into the room through the opening created by the slightly ajar door. Moving quickly, I raised from my bed and my outstretched hand clung to his silky chasuble, succeeding at halting his exit. “Don’t go”, I pleaded.

His gloved hand tightened his grip on the doorknob. I could see a shadow of doubt over his features. At that moment, he was but another mortal man, debating between purity and profanity, moral and sin, Heaven and Hell.

“You already know my feelings, Papa… But there is one thing you thoroughly ignore.” I took a deep breath to steady my rapidly racing heart as Papa’s gaze fell over me. “God’s angels may be deprived of the pleasure of looking at their protegees like that,  _ ma tu non sei un angelo di Dio, Papa.” _

He shut the door and darkness enveloped us as his arms embraced me, pulling me close to him.


	3. My little sin (Love, Ecstasy and Terror)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third song: ["My little sin" by Love, Ecstasy and Terror](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGiqKUWBAaE).

His white eye glowed in the dark like a star in the inky blackness of the night sky. My heart pounded fast and hard, the pumping blood setting me ablaze. Soon enough my own eyes got used to the gloom and the pale glow pouring from his gaze became enough for me to see. He looked down at me, searching me as I searched him; both of us waiting for the other to show a sign -- be it to continue or to stop.

"I don't want to hurt you,  _ cara." _

"You won't, Papa."

"There will be no turning back. It is, after all, one of those deals with the Devil."

I took a step closer and, for a second, the sound of his deep breath muffled the dry pounding from the blood inside my ears. I looked at him. "What makes you so afraid, Papa?" -- and I added, perhaps more bitterly than intended -- "I wouldn't be the first..."

The golden nails of his gloved fingers scraped my cheek as he cupped my face. "No, but I would be yours... Is that really what you want? To give up everything you've had until now to commit yourself to me?"

I held his gaze, even if his touch begged me to melt against the rich leather. "Yes, Papa."

"Are you willing to be mine and mine alone, understanding that my time on this Earth and yours may and will take us on different paths?"

My heart beat so loud that I was convinced he could hear it. "Yes, Papa."

"Will you give yourself to me  _ completely, _ each and every time, as long as you are considered  _ mine?" _

My lips were parted and my breathing ragged. "Yes, Papa."

"Do you really understand what these vows mean and that once they're taken they cannot be undone?"

I looked at the demon who had saved me and protected me throughout all these years and made sure he knew there would be no other answer from me. "Yes, Papa."

He closed his eyes and I swear I could see his lips moving, silently repeating my vow, relinquishing in the pleasure my devotion brought him. When he looked back at me, the hand cupping my cheek -- the right one -- traveled lower to my chin, holding my gaze in place and reminding me of the power I had bestowed upon him.

"Speak and I shall listen. Call me and I shall be there. Nothing and no-one will harm you for I will always take care of you,  _ bambina. _ Such is my vow to you."

I nodded. "Yes, Papa."

His nails dug slightly deeper, the sting reminding me of their presence. His pupils dilated and his irises darkened. His voice came out raspy, the ghost of a growl tainting it. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this,  _ cara. _ Forgive me,  _ ma non credo di poter frenare me stesso." _

I had barely managed to open my lips when his mouth was on mine, devouring me in a hungry kiss. My hands reached for him, palms stopping against his chest and clawing to the fabric of his chasuble there, as I indulged him with the first of many moans. 

It was a kiss like no other -- needy, sure,  _ desperate _ to convey too many emotions and unsaid words in one single act. Granted, I had little-to-no experience but, to me, it felt like the kind of kisses couples shared in those romance novels of old when they were reunited after only Satan knows how many years of being apart.

Even if I was sloppy for lack of practice, he didn’t care.

One single kiss was all it took for him to leave me light-headed, clinging desperately to him lest my weakened knees betrayed me and buckled. He noticed this and ended the kiss so I could recover my breath. I whimpered, already missing the softness, the richness, the warmth, and dreading the moment it would come to an end.

Once again I got the feeling he was aware of my thoughts for he enveloped me in his arms tightly where I could feel the rapidly increasing thumps of his heartbeat, accompanying my panted breaths.

"I am not going anywhere,  _ cara mia. _ There is no need to rush...  _ For now, _ at least" -- and he added -- "Hell knows I have thought about this; longing,  _ lusting... _ Awaiting the sinful moment I could call you  _ mine..." _ His voice was a silky growl when he confessed,  _ "Perfino l'Inferno disapprova dei miei peccati, mia cara." _

I blushed, shuddering under the weight of his words, knowing they were both a threat and a promise. The uncertainty thrilled me and at that moment I knew I would give him my all, even if I hadn't his word as my safe.

Slowly, his clawed gloves explored my still clothed back. I shivered, feeling the faint scratches even through the thin layer of my nightgown. I wanted to touch him but all I could manage was holding onto him, losing myself in each new sensation.

His hands traveled lower still until they reached my ass. His palms pressed down, massaging each cheek before grabbing it, bringing my hips closer to his. I gasped, already melting under his ministrations and against his growing bulge.

I closed my eyes when I felt the warmth of his breath tingling in my ear, "we have barely started and you are already undone,  _ bambina... _ So eager,  _ so innocent..." _

As if commanded by a silent spell, my head tilted giving him access to my neck. Like a wolf, he ravished it with hunger, kisses quickly turning into sucks and sucks into bites, his sharp teeth marking me and eliciting from me a melody I hadn't been aware I could produce. My hands reached out to hold onto the back of his neck, my back arching until all of my body was pressing and writhing against him.

His hands found the hem of my gown and pulled it upwards. He let go of my neck for a moment, enough to take off the piece of clothing, before he lowered his face to the crook of my shoulder once more. His lips ghosted over my skin as he inhaled my aroused scent and his hands went to my ass again, this time picking me up. I held onto him and snaked my legs around his hips for support, but his grip was so strong I could've let go and it wouldn't have made a difference. 

One of my hands reached up to tangle itself in his hair and knocked his miter off in the process. Under other circumstances, I would've been horrified after such insolent display, but neither of us could care less. He gasped -- Lord,  _ he gasped _ \-- when I caressed his scalp; and I moaned as his silky strands ran like water between my fingers, oh so soft.

He took me to the bed and lowered me there. Both of us could tell his chasuble was getting in the way. "In due time," he told me, "you will learn how to properly dress me in these vestments... And how to take them off, of course. Tonight, however, it is about you,  _ cara, _ so I will take care of them." I must have turned, covering my naked chest or something, because he added, "oh, no, let me look at you,  _ bambina. _ Let my eyes feast on your visage and commit it to memory."

Even if I couldn't see much inside the gloom I felt how my body reacted to him, flushing in response to his words. Quicker than I had anticipated, he got rid of the unholy mantles. The black cassock with golden embroidery he wore beneath was gone next, followed by his shoes and socks. His white eye had become the light guiding my gaze, blinding me to everything else and obscuring his frame under its glow. There was no way for me to tell for sure but his skin appeared as dark as the insides of my chamber. It occurred to me that I could feel no trace of the face paint on my lips or my fingers but, before I could entertain the thought any longer, he had climbed over me. 

His gaze burnt over me and I averted my own in shyness. Before any self-doubt could creep its way into the back of my mind, however, he kissed me again. This new kiss was hungry still but didn't feel as desperate. We both knew now that it wouldn't be the last, that there was time to enjoy. He took me in his arms and I wrapped myself around him, his hotness pressing against my panties. I moaned when I realized he was completely naked and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue assaulting my mouth and taking me to a new high.

My skin burnt against his and I lost myself in a whirlwind of touches, caresses, kisses, bites, and licks. His mouth made a trail of wet kisses down my chin and my throat, and he urged me -- "don't be shy,  _ cara mia, _ touch me. Tonight, I am no pope nor angel. Tonight,  _ I am sin. _ Go ahead,  _ touch your Papa _ like you've been aching to."

Satan knows I did.

Was I so intoxicated by all of him because he was a demon and not a mortal man? Were all demons as enticing or was it just a perk of his? No matter the answer, I found my senses overwhelmed by everything that was him -- touch, vision, scent, sound, and taste; be it because of my explorations or his ministrations.

I deeply inhaled when sharp claws dug on my skin, no sign of the familiar leather gloves. His very own talons scratched at my sides as my nails tried to mirror his actions, leaving red trails across his lean back. His mouth left my neck to travel further down; biting, licking, and marking a path from my collarbones to my breasts.

When the wetness of his tongue on my nipples I felt an electric shock coursing through my body. Mercilessly, he sucked and pinched my buds, teasing them with his pointy claws until they were hard and engorged. He cupped and massaged each one of my mounds like a dexterous musician would play his beloved instrument. His hips rocked against mine, the friction completing the symphony.

All the while my hands explored him -- his back, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his neck. My touch revealed the body my eyes could not see and I let them guide me as I learned the shape of the demon over me. He was lean and fitter than his papal regalia would let me assume. He was also covered in a fair share of wrinkles and his skin was loose around his throat and tum -- which also happened to be soft with a thin layer of fat. I allowed myself to venture lower until my hands reached his thighs. Covered in a little fuzz, they were surprisingly firm and muscular, even if there were still softer patches at the sides and, I imagined, the insides as well.

"Let me guide you,  _ principessa." _ I hadn't noticed he had stopped pleasuring me to admire my explorations with genuine curiosity. I looked up at him as he grabbed my right hand with his clawed one, and took it to his mouth. He kissed my palm tenderly before doing the same to my fingertips. It tingled. He made sure our gazes were locked before swallowing my index whole, sucking on the finger hard -- a promise of what would come later. He repeated the motion with all of my digits, delighting himself in my ragged moany breaths.

I was a panting mess when I was bored witness to my hand being guided south -- down his chest, teasing his own nipples, and down his navel -- until it was wrapped around his throbbing length, already slicked by our foreplay and the juices that had soaked through my panties as we ground against each other. His erection was impossibly warm and it felt rock hard against my hand. I let Papa's talons guide my touch as he teached me how to pleasure him.

_ "Yes, just like that, cara." _ His sultry whispers were cut short by a low grown as my thumb massaged his engorged head.  _ "Ah, fuck..." _ His talons returned to my chest and scratched down my sides making me quiver, my mind so hazed by the stimulation of both giving and receiving pleasure.

Encouraged by his sounds, I experimented with my strokes, mixing harder motions with softer tapping and teasing. I used my free hand to cup his sack, giving it a gentle squeeze. His hips thrust into my hands, deepening the contact.

A few moments later, I had picked up my pace and was quickly learning what motions he appeared to enjoy more than others -- like a particularly long slow stroke from the base to the tip of his cock. It had made him close his eyes and had him almost melt in my hands.

Judging for the half-hushed noises he was making, the laboured pants, and his erratic movements, I figured he was getting close to release. Before that happened, though, he grabbed my hands and pinned them over my head. "That will be enough for now,  _ bambina.” _ He licked from my collarbone up my pulse, making me tremble. “Allow me to show you other,  _ ah, _ pleasurable activities…"

He kept my hands pinned with one of his claws while his mouth doubled the attack on my body. Beneath him, I purred and squealed, trembled and squirmed.  _ "Calmati, mia cara, _ we're not even there yet..." His mouth traveled further down my tum and navel until he reached the hem of my panties. He let go of my arms but I was too excited to move or do anything but anxiously await his next movement. He rearranged himself so his head would be comfortably leveled at my hips. One single claw teased my crotch over my panties, barely scraping the surface of the wet fabric. I shuddered in anticipation and he chuckled at this, amused at what little it took to undo me.

"I promise to replace these later,  _ bambina", _ he purred. In one swift motion, he tore my panties off and I gasped in surprise, the tension inside my body making me overreact at every one of his movements. He didn't waste a second as his mouth closed around my lips, drinking from me with an insatiable thirst. 

I couldn’t think, clouded as I was by the immense pleasure his mouth was showering me with. His lips and tongue were everywhere -- sucking, licking, nibbling; even gently biting. True, I wasn’t new to self-love but nothing I had experienced before could compare to the zealous passion and thrill of someone else’s touch -- or mouth -- wrapped around my sex. The heat pooled in the pits of my stomach and my muscles clenched. With a loud scream and faster than any of us could have expected, my orgasm exploded dripping all over Papa’s mouth. He drank from me, not letting go until the last of my tremors had subdued. I trembled, the force of it having shaken me to my innermost core.

He delivered butterfly kisses all over my thighs, allowing me to come down from my high. My chest heaved trying to recover from the afterglow.

“Say,  _ cara,  _ did you enjoy it?”

He obviously knew the answer already but I also knew that he wanted me to say it. “Y-yes, Papa.”

I didn’t need light to see the pride in his smug face. “Good. Say, are you ready for a little dancing?” He crawled back over me and kissed me gently. My musk on his lips aroused me even further and I groaned when one of his talons entered me. With a sly grin, he growled -- “Or, as I would like to put it, a little  _ fucking?” _

I moaned my approval, reaching for his face to kiss him again. He chuckled, pleased at my reaction, before inserting another talon. He was mindful of not hurting me but the knowledge of having his sharp claws so deep inside me thrilled me even more. With ease, he inserted a third finger -- the mixture of my arousal and my residual climax already being enough to get me ready.

“Papa… _please…_ _ho bisogno di te…”_

_ “Come desideri, cara.” _

A moment later, he slipped inside me hissing from the pleasure of being buried within my core. It was… strange at first. For a first time, I have to admit that I had been properly readied, but there was still a twinge of uncomfortableness in the affair. However, the pleasure from being filled quickly overcame the discomfort. Papa waited for me until I had accustomed to his girth. I nodded, signaling I was ready for him to move.

_ “Sweet Lucifer in Hell!” _

He silenced my exclamations with another lustful kiss as his thrusts picked up to a steady pace. He wasn’t too fast nor too slow; he was also mindful enough of not going too deep yet, waiting for me to get used to the friction. However, I was way too lost in the pleasure to care and was soon begging him to fuck me deeper, harder.

I don’t remember for how long we went or how many orgasms I had; not even if we slept together or if it was just me slipping in and out of conscious. I remember the pleasure, the sound of his groans, the lust in his growls, the taste of our shared kisses, the feeling of him inside me.

A year has passed since. For everyone at the Church, I am but his devoted protegee, guarded by his wing and honored with the task of serving him. For us, I am his worshipper, his slut, his slave… His greatest sin.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it <3


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